It’s so fucking dark outside. All I can see is the outline of my hand raised against the moonless sky, my wand quivering with fear like the rest of my body. Where was he? I glanced around slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings, but everything was doused in black. I heard the ravens scream in the trees, warning me from advancing, but there was no way in hell I was going to give up now. The blood was already on my hands…and my face and every other part of my body. In my left hand, the sword dangled from my slick fingers, the sharp point making a sorrowful track in the dirt as I moved.
Each breath was a painful blow to my ribs, which exploded with pain every few seconds. I could only die happy if I knew that the son of a bitch that did this to me was dead, rotting in a festering grave of maggots and hell. This is what he had done to me. By taking her, he had damned me to this vigilante life of hiding in shadowy corners and raining down heavy blows of violence in order to preserve my own life.
My name is James Potter II, and my little sister is dead.
I found her about twenty days ago, lying in a pool of blood, at the base of a tall, well-guarded building on the outskirts of diagon alley. She had fallen, seemingly an accident, but I knew so much better. And that quick flash of black hair told me all I ever needed to know. I only got to see her broken form for about three seconds before I saw him. And then, like lightning I was gone, mounting the broom that I had thankfully rode in on. I can still remember the feeling of the wind assaulting my face as I sped around looking for him, but he was gone so quickly, I never had a chance.
I never even got a chance to grieve for her. He stole that from me. He stole EVERYTHING from me, from the minute that little shit was born. And now, it’s time for pay back. NOW, it is time for me to avenge everything that has happened to my family. I will make him see, I will make him understand that he cannot take from me what is mine. He can’t take my heart, my dignity, or my freedom. And I will be God Damned if I will even give him the satisfaction of trying.
My feet hurt so badly as I continued my trek through the forest, the sound of the dragging sword like nails on a chalkboard.
“COME OUT!” I screamed into the nothingness. “COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME.”
The only answer to my strained plea was the echo of my own broken voice.
“YOU ARE A COWARD! YOU COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE THE SHIT YOU ARE!”
Then, I heard it. The sound of his breath hitting the cold winter air. As I came closer, his silhouette was visible. He did not move.
“Hello, brother,” he whispered as I watched the evenly spaced dimples in his cheeks mutate to form a wide, malicious grin.
“Albus,” I choked, a rough cough issuing from my lungs. I felt a spurt of blood taint my lips, but I ignored it.
“This is the end of the road.” And then my baby brother came at me, wand raised in pure hatred, and I knew the war was decided.